


Remember

by Flufferdoodle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: FrostIron - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Iron Dad, Light Angst, M/M, POV Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark Has A Heart, i'm not actually part of this fandom i'm sorry idk why i'm here, kind of hinted at underage but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flufferdoodle/pseuds/Flufferdoodle
Summary: Loki generally resents visiting Midgard, but that's not to say nothing there is interesting





	Remember

Loki didn’t enjoy these excursions to Midgard, but he enjoyed being lectured by Frigga on his responsibilities even less, so he went along with it.

 

At least Thor seemed more invested this time around. Recent discussions and threats had brought to light the very real possibility that Thor would be the first Asgardian king to form relations with Midgard, and now the giant, thundering oaf seemed uncannily sober as they skimmed through a – what was it, again? – newspaper.

 

“Brother, it seems that the Stark House is of utmost importance here,” Thor boomed directly into his ear. Loki winced.

 

“Volume control, Thor. Nobody talks like that here,” he muttered back. “And yes, I’d agree. There was word of them the last time we visited too, remember?” The Stark had been working with other scientists on some hush-hush project that would have interested Loki if he hadn’t been dragged out of his  _ own _ studies of the arcane to come to this backwater realm.

 

“During their Great War?”

 

Loki had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the name. “Great” War. He and Thor hadn’t stuck around to see the end of it, but at the time the humans were simply dirtying themselves digging ditches and launching primitive metal cans through the air. “Great” indeed.

 

But then again, if that Stark project had been successful, who knows what they had developed now?

 

This trip to Midgard could be interesting.

 

“Exactly. So it seems they’re still very relevant. Outside of that, hm… They still have their world divided. Perhaps I stay here, in the, ah, United States, and speak with the Starks. Surely there are other matters of importance in Europe? It would be good of you to touch base with the lands that had worshipped us.”

 

Thor frowned, considering this.

 

“Yes, I suppose you are right, Loki. We only have so much time here. It is best to divide and conquer.”  _ Like we do every single time, you buffoon, _ Loki silently added.

 

“Indeed! Now, I will be off to this New York. We will reconvene in,” Loki skimmed the paper, “Washington D.C. in three days. Agreed?”

 

“Agreed.” And with that, Thor was off.

 

Easy.

 

Loki folded the newspaper back up and tucked it into its stand, smiling to himself as he teleported to the heart of New York.

 

The city reeked even worse than it had during his last visit, except this time the odor stunk more of machine than man. Humans, fragile as they were, shoved and cut in front of each other, flooding the sidewalks, while cars and buses sat in traffic. Buildings unlike any Loki had seen anywhere else in the universe loomed overhead, each filled with life.

 

It all felt hellishly unstable and unkept. Rot was evident in every simple structure, and garish orange cones marked off zones finally deemed too ruined for use. Noisy equipment added to the clamor of life and progress.

 

As Loki made his way through the streets, he wondered if there was really any point to his and Thor’s missions. No matter how far Midgard advanced, they would never be able to integrate with the other realms. They were simply… too different. Too divided, even amongst themselves. And there were just  _ so many _ of them.

 

Shining lights and screens fought for the attention of the mindless masses, an upgraded version of the hand-drawn posters of centuries before. Little black and gray devices sat in the hands of passerby, and Loki didn’t hesitate before swiping one from the back pocket of a seemingly lost human. He ducked into a nearby cafe with his prize, and welcomed the warm smell of pastries and tea over the stench outside.

 

Claiming a six-top table for himself, he set the device down carefully. It appeared simple enough; two pieces folded together, black with a flowery polymer case around the top half. Openings shined silver up and down the sides.

 

Unsure of what else to do, he flipped it open.

 

A basic numberpad headed by a little green screen displaying the time greeted him.

 

Loki hummed before turning his attention to the TV in the corner of the cafe. If he were anyone else, he would’ve had to admit he was impressed at how fast the humans had developed this sort of technology. It wouldn’t be too long before they accomplished even greater technological feats.

 

Of course, none of it would be compatible with Asgardian technology. Ever.

 

But still, impressive.

 

The Starks appeared on the news three times over the course of two hours. First, it was the eldest. Howard Stark had just designed another nuclear weapon with a much smaller blast radius than his previous designs. 

 

“Just as deadly, but providing our troops with greater control so as to protect innocent civilians,” Stark smiled, charisma masking the obvious poison behind his eyes. Loki liked him immediately.

 

The second was about one Anthony Stark winning some prize for a robot he built. He was not interviewed; pictures simply showed a boy, barely more than a child, grinning proudly next to some clawed menace. The reporter didn’t pause to breathe once as she prattled through the apparent drama surrounding this feat. Anthony, apparently, wasn’t the most reputable Stark around.

 

Loki decided he liked him too.

 

The third was a brief, brief mention of Howard Stark meeting with some government organization. An interesting family, indeed.

 

Loki hummed as he made his way back out of the cafe and over to a nearby library, where he spent the rest of the night reading up on Midgardian war history. The Stark name appeared again and again, in the midst of Groves and Oppenheimer, Rogers and Barnes. The elder, Howard, had seemingly played a hand in  _ everything _ . Interesting indeed.

 

Meanwhile, Anthony seemed to appear more often in the tabloids. At just fifteen years old -  _ fifteen years old? Midgardians grew so fast  _ \- the boy was in his second year at some fancy school where he seemed to spend most of his time like Thor. Drinking and fucking. Oh, sure, he was a genius, but he certainly seemed starved for the spotlight.

 

Loki traced a finger around the boy’s picture. He simply looked so young…

 

Loki dumped all the books into the return bin at sunrise before transforming into a rook and departing, the “flip phone” he acquired earlier clutched in his talons. He found the StarkIndustries HQ easily enough, and dumped the phone in a bush before shifting into a mosquito.

 

Getting in was simple when he was so small. Finding Howard Stark, however, was not. He buzzed through the hallways for what seemed like hours before the now familiar mustache appeared before him. He landed on the back of the man’s jacket, appreciating the free ride to his personal office.

 

The office itself was mostly bare, save for two bookcases against the back wall packed with worn notebooks and textbooks, a large desk laden with papers and a large, white computer, and two chairs. Howard slumped in relief upon walking in, before locking, unlocking, and re-locking the door three times. He all but fell into his chair.

 

Loki buzzed to the opposite one and promptly shifted back to his Asgardian form, revelling in the immediate panic of Howard shouting and clambering back to the door.

 

Loki offered him a smile.

 

“You have three seconds to explain yourself before I call security,” Howard stated, surprisingly level.

 

“Oh, I doubt that would be necessary,” Loki said, grin widening. He clapped his hands together. “I’m not here to hurt you. Besides, nobody can come. This room is officially–” he flicked his wrist, and the blinds over the window shot up to reveal blackness outside “–off-site.”

 

Howard’s pulse quickened, and his hand shot down to hit a button next to the door, presumably to call security.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Loki continued to smile at him.

 

“Listen, Howard. I simply have some questions for you. I have limited time here, and I  _ know _ you are a busy man. So let us begin, okay?”

 

Howard remained frozen. Loki scowled.

 

“Oh, for Odin’s sake, don’t be this difficult. You’re intelligent, are you not? Come. Sit down, answer my questions, and all will be fine. I swear, if your son is this easily panicked, I’m giving up on Midgard entirely.”

 

That got Howard’s attention. “M-my son?”

 

“Yes. Anthony? Prone to partying, drinking, fornicating, all those lovely behaviors?”

 

“I- what do you want with him?”

 

“Same thing as I want from you. To ask some questions.”

 

Howard straightened up, face hardening into a mask of determination. “No. You will not go near him.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Really? And why would that be?”

 

“I will not allow you to harm my son.”

 

“I already said I just wanted to ask some questions. Are you deaf? And even if I bore some ill will towards Anthony, how would you stop me? We are in an alternate dimension right now. You are not exactly in a position to make demands here.”

 

Howard’s glare was downright venomous as he retook his seat. Seconds ticked away silently as he met Loki’s harsh gaze.

 

“Alright,” he conceded. “What do you want to know?”

 

Loki put up with about ten minutes of Howard dismissing half his answers as “classified” before he resorted to magic, merely making Howard more open to discussing sensitive topics.

 

And so the Trickster God learned of Steve Rogers, of Erskine, of the details behind nuclear weapons. He learned of the current status of the world, of war, of war profiteering, and how universities worked and how Anthony was an anomaly. He learned about space travel – exciting! he hadn’t known Midgardians had it in them – and politics.

 

And then he returned the office to Midgard, placed a lock on Howard’s memories of the past three hours, and took off for MIT.

 

Loki frowned at the abrupt change in architecture. Midgardians struggled with choice, he figured, and couldn’t stick to a theme. Everything varied  _ so much _ , and the lack of consistency was enough to drive one mad.

 

Still, a few charming conversations later, Loki shifted into a younger appearance and waltzed into a classroom, magic deflecting the notice of the teacher and all students but one.

 

Anthony squinted at him as he slid into the empty seat beside him, and Loki squinted back in mockery. The boy indeed looked young, with a mop of curly brown hair and bright chocolate eyes, cogs clearly ticking in the back of his mind.

 

“And who are you?” Anthony muttered, voice cracking on “you.” Ah, puberty.

 

“Someone rather invested in your future,” Loki muttered back.

 

Anthony didn’t hesitate to smirk. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all.”

 

“Hm, I suppose it doesn’t. Your fellow Midgardians all seem overinvested in your life.”

 

“But clearly you understand why, since you are too.”

 

“Not in the same manner.”

 

Anthony’s grin turned predatory at that point, and Loki smirked in amusement. What a character.

 

“Say, I already know the content covered today. What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?” Anthony whispered.

 

Loki raised his eyebrows. “And how would that happen?”

 

Anthony shrugged. “I read the textbooks before the term starts. I just come to class when I’ve got nothing better to do. Also, it’s apparently supposed to make the information stick more.”

 

Loki shrugged back. “If you say so.” He shielded them both from notice as Anthony gathered his belongings and headed outside.

 

“So, Anthony,” Loki began.

 

“Tony.” The boy immediately corrected.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“My name’s Tony.”

 

“I was informed it was Anthony. Anthony Stark?”

 

“Yeah, nobody calls me that except news reporters and my dad when he’s mad. Which is all the time. No, I’m Tony.”

 

Loki frowned. “Anthony sounds far more professional.”

 

“Like I give a fuck. Call me Tony or we’re done.” The boy’s face hardened into a mask of defiance, even as his still developing voice cracked halfway through the conversation. Loki rolled his eyes.

 

“Alright. Tony. I have some questions for you.”

 

“For before or after?” And Tony’s voice dropped in pitch, unnaturally low.

 

“Before or after what?” Loki asked, bewildered.

 

“I ride you into oblivion, of course,” Tony snarked, cutting in front of Loki and grabbing at the collar of the god’s shirt.

 

Loki blinked.

 

“You’re fifteen,” he stated.

 

“So? Only a few months away from sixteen, age of consent. Close enough. My history should be more than sufficient to show I wouldn’t press charges,” Tony said easily, gliding backwards with careless arrogance. His fingers tightened around Loki’s collar. “You know you want it.”

 

One week from now, Loki would be sitting in his workshop, reflecting on this visit. One week from now, Loki would be writing an official report of the intel he gathered on Midgard. One week from now, Loki would be dumbfounded and angry that, for the first time since he and Thor first visited this backwater realm, a human – a  _ child _ – had rendered him speechless.

 

By wanting  _ sex _ .

 

But Loki was in the present, tongue tied in a knot, brain short-circuiting as Tony easily guided him across the campus and up the stairs to his dormitory. It was only when the door shut behind them and Tony started pulling off his shirt that Loki came to his senses.

 

“Uh, no.”

 

Tony froze. “What?”

 

“No, I don’t want to have sex with you,” Loki said, firmer this time.

 

And now Tony stood speechless. His shirt fell back into place. Underneath, it was obvious he was skinny, abs and ribs visible alike. Loki takes in the picture, memorizing what this awkward little boy looks like, wondering how he will change.

 

“I simply came to ask some questions on your research.”

 

Tony blinked.

 

“I… You should’ve said so. Uh, what, um, what journal are you with? NOVA? InterestingEngineering? I, uh, would’ve started with DUM-E if you had said…”

 

“I am not with a journal.”

 

“Oh.” And Tony looked so small than that little word that just escaped his lips. “Well, usually people don’t, uh, want to know about my, uh, research. Unless they’re part of that community. Uh, science or engineering journalling, that is. Or weapons.”

 

“Well, I’m not usual people.”

 

They stood there in tense silence, Tony frozen while Loki looked around. The room was  a mess; two unmade beds were lofted above desks covered in papers and pens. A collection of ceramic mugs filled a corner, and a trashcan overflowed with chip bags and shredded notes. The window remained half open, a sad effort to air out the stench of human sweat and coffee.

 

Loki considered the merits of cutting the meeting off now, but Tony suddenly straightened, charismatic smile, eerily similar to Howard’s, masking his face.

 

“Alrighty, well you’re in for a treat. Nobody else has come  _ close _ to creating the type of AI I have in DUM-E. Generally, the focus of Artificial Intelligence is to create a machine that can learn, right? I’ve done more than that. DUM-E is almost self-aware, or as close to self-aware as a machine can get. I’m hoping for my next AI to be aware enough to name itself. DUM-E I just kinda named, because, well, he’s… he’s not done yet. He’s still a work in progress. I mean, obviously he will always be a work in progress. He’ll always be learning, just like people and animals do. But there’s a lot of ways his code could run smoother, and…”

 

And Tony Stark talked about five times faster and ten times more than Howard did without even being  _ prompted _ . Loki made note of everything he said, though, listening as the boy led him to a lab off campus.

 

Inside was one of the most organized trainwrecks Loki had ever seen. Benches and counters were covered in stacks of blueprints, with CNC mills and lathes lining the walls. Lights dangled precariously from the ceiling, bathing everything in a harsh yellow glow. Broken bits of glass covered the floor.

 

And, in the midst of it all, sat the robot Loki had seen on the TV. In its claw sat some sort of red can, fitted with a black nozzle.

 

“DUM-E! We have a guest!” Tony called excitedly, and his voice shut off  _ finally _ as behemoth rolled over towards them. Loki studied it harshly, just as it lifted its claw and coated the room in white.

 

The shriek the god let out was perfectly manly and appropriate, thank you.

 

Tony, meanwhile, just laughed and wiped the powdery foam off his face. “Okay, uh, sorry about that. He’s learning fire safety right now, and, well, okay. He’s never seen you before. DUM-E, that was  _ not _ a fire. N-O. Go get a rag, please.”

 

The robot lowered its claw, dejectedly dropping the red can before rolling off to pick up a rag and returning to its master.

 

“We’re gonna need more than that, bud.”

 

Loki glowered at Tony as the robot rolled off once more, and Tony grinned as he shrugged.

 

“He’s learning, okay? The few times I showed him an actual fire, he put it out fine, no problem! He’s also starting to get the hang of other tasks. Like, when I- Okay, well, not gonna get into that, but once again, he’s very good at learning! And he started responding to things like ‘buddy’ and ‘pal’ without me explaining that they were alternate names. I’m trying to get Rhodey down here more, so he can work on picking up when I’m saying those to him or to Rhodey, but that’s still a huge work in progress.”

 

“I see,” Loki said sourly.

 

Tony didn’t look put out in the slightest. “The applications for this are incredible. It’s a ways out yet, but I’m hoping that eventually we can eliminate the need for pilots in aircraft; just have an AI fly in and drop the bombs instead. It’d save countless lives of soldiers. That, or just, like, okay, I’ve been thinkin of this for a while and I  _ know  _ it’s not typical StarkIndustries stuff, but like a personal assistant! That’s what DUM-E is going to eventually be, but I mean, even more than something that can just hand you things that need handing! I mean something that can talk and manage schedules and order dinner and that whole deal.”

 

Loki tolerated another five minutes of incessant chatter over the AI, taking the time to clean himself of the fire extinguisher with a rag from DUM-E, before asking Tony actual relevant questions.

 

“When do you inherit StarkIndustries?”

 

Tony looked a bit off guard for a moment before grinning. “Why, as soon as dear old dad kicks the bucket of course. I’ve already been developing new weapons technology for them.”

 

Loki frowned. “Really? I have seen no information on any patents under Anthony Stark being used for StarkIndustries.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course not. Howard files it all under his name. Child genius or no, investors don’t want missiles made by children. Besides, the weapons I design are simple. I don’t care. DUM-E’s my pride and joy.”

 

“So, you will not develop weapons when you take over?”

 

“Oh, of course I will. The world needs weapons, and I need money to fund my research. Besides, I’ve got zero interest in living in the losing country. No, what I build is better than what everyone else builds, and so I’m going to make sure my world stays safe.”

 

Loki hummed. “Fair enough. And what research is it you plan to pursue? Just your AIs?”

 

“I don’t know. Space travel maybe? Super soldiers? Wireless communication? Hell, I dunno. Anything really. Weapons are fun. Blowing things up is fun. But it’s easy. I want to learn more.”

 

Loki nodded. “And what of the arcane?” The boy would be an incredible sorcerer, what with his intellect and dedication.

 

“Arcane?” Tony echoed. “What, magic and shit?” 

 

“Yes. Any interest there?”

 

“Please. I know fantasy from reality. No, I’ll stick to technology, thank you very much.” Or maybe he wouldn’t be.

 

Loki shrugged and offered his dirty rags to Tony. If magic had helped him appear a bit cleaner than he should have been, then, well, it wasn’t like Tony paid enough attention to people to notice.

 

It didn’t seem like Loki did either, if the fact that he waited over a minute for Tony to grab the cloth was anything to go by.

 

Tony cleared his throat at last. “I, uh, don’t like to be handed things.”

 

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Oh. I see.”

 

He really didn’t, but Tony seemed happy with the response.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, my time here is almost up,” Loki said a moment later, dropping his rags in a heap on the ground. “This has been enlightening, to say the least. Could I at least request a handshake before we split paths?” He extended his hand.

 

Tony paused a moment before gingerly taking it. After the initial touch, he gripped firmly.

 

“It’s been a pleasure,” he said, a mockery of professionalism.

 

“Indeed, Mr. Stark,” Loki whispered, catching Tony’s gaze.

 

Ten minutes later, Loki was in Washington DC, with Tony sitting in his dorm room, his memories of Loki locked.

 

And, well, if Loki found himself methodically reading every article on Anthony Edward Stark he could access while waiting for Thor, nobody needed to know.

 

And if Thor drug him to a brothel their last day in Midgard, as he always had, and Loki found himself in bed with a man of brown hair and brown eyes, well, nobody needed to know that either.

 

\---

 

The next visit to Midgard, Loki made alone. Tony Stark had started weighing on his mind again, an itch he needed to scratch.

 

He was only there for a day. Howard had died, apparently, and the now barely-a-man Tony Stark was heading StarkIndustries.

 

Scientific journals praised his inventions. Smarter weapons, deadlier than ever, more controlled than ever, were introduced to the market near-daily. Tabloids covered each of his drunk escapades, collecting and distributing every piece of gossip of who he was sleeping with and where those sex tapes came from. His face appeared in every magazine, every news station, all over the nation.

 

Loki tracked him down to a casino and watched him shamelessly flirt with a man twice his age, shining watches glittering up and down his arms. Of course, Tony was merely toying with him, and the second the man leaned in to place a hand on his shoulder, Tony downed his drink and was off to pursue a young woman instead.

 

He gambled and diced, flirted and argued, a glass of champagne never once leaving his hand. Loki found himself entranced in the way Stark moved, graceful and forceful, as if the now twenty-four year-old owned the place.

 

At one point, someone reaches for the sunglasses on his face. He spins, easily, and grins, stating something Loki can’t quite hear before laughing and diving back into the crowd.

 

This goes on for hours, until Stark is starting to sway and his most recent target, a blonde woman wearing far too much jewelry, is half-carrying him to the door. Loki follows and watches as a dark-skinned man steps in, looking incredibly uncomfortable, and beelines for Tony. Loki’s back stiffens as he watches the man easily remove Tony from the woman’s arms and ushers him out the door.

 

Once outside, Loki shifts into a rat and scampers after the pair.

 

“I swear, Tones, Stane’s gonna  _ kill _ you when he finds out. You realize you’re behind on the Jericho plans-”

 

“Those’re done, Platypus,” Tony drawls. “I already f- _ finished _ those. Fuckin’ Obie wants another engineer to sign off on ‘em, though…”

 

“Well, Jesus Tony, seeing as this is how you’re spending your life, I’d want some confirmation that your weapons are gonna be functional too.”

 

“Weapons are easy,” Loki thinks as Tony says it. “Besides, I g-got JARVIS fully functional when I was  _ way _ drunker than this. And J-JARVIS was… was  _ hard. _ ”

 

The man, Platypus, sighs. “Tones, we can’t keep doing this.”

 

“Why? I-I’m happy like this. Nothing’s gotta change.”

 

“No, you’re not. You need-you need a therapist.”

 

Tony lets out a drunken laugh. “Some fuckin’ shrink’s not gonna help, Rhodey.” Loki frowns. He thought the man’s name was Platypus? “And i-imagine the tabloids if word gets out that-that  _ Tony Stark _ is seeing a  _ therapist.” _

 

Rhodey-Platypus sighs. “The tabloids can’t possibly say anything worse about you than what they’ve already been on about.”

 

“Fuck, you right. Can I sit down? I wanna sit down.”

 

“Yeah, sure. I’m gonna pull a car around, Tones, don’t move.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honeybear.”

 

Rhodey-Platypus gently lowers Tony to the curb, who promptly collapses into a giggling heap on the ground. Rhodey-Platypus sighs and walks off, leaving his friend unattended.

 

It isn’t long before some drunk partier joins Stark, immediately latching onto his mouth. Tony is clearly into it, hands automatically reaching up to grab their ass, and Loki doesn’t hesitate to shift back to his Asgardian form to pull the petite woman off and not-so-gently direct her away.

 

Stark looks confused, sprawled out on the ground below him. Loki sighs and sits down beside him, plucking the sunglasses off his face. Underneath, Stark’s eyes look dull. Pained. Loki knows he will remember Stark here, looking like this.

 

Upon seeing Loki though, his eyes light up, just the tiniest bit. The memories unlock.

 

“Hey. Hey, you– you–” Stark waves his hand in a broad gesture. “Seven years ago.”

 

“Yes,” Loki agrees. “And now look at you.”

 

“I never got your name,” Stark says, trying to sit up and failing. “Hey, I’m not fifteen anymore. If you wanna, you know, now. You look hot as ever.”

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

Stark groans. “I’m too young, I’m too drunk, Jesus man, what do you want?”

 

Loki frowns. He hears a car coming forward and stands up.

 

Some part of him knows he should lock Tony’s memories again.

 

A larger part of him doesn’t want to, as he walks away from Rhodey-Platypus lifting the still-skinny barely-a-man into the car.

 

When he goes back to Asgard, he fights the urge to beat his head against the wall as he realized he is entrapped in yet  _ another _ fruitless cycle of complicated emotions. Tony’s words echo.

 

_ Too young, too drunk, what do you want? _

 

Loki wishes he could answer.

 

\---

 

Loki manages to wait another five years before returning.

 

Tony Stark, as per usual, dominates the news, but this time it’s different. StarkIndustries is no longer producing weapons, Tony Stark is no longer the name associated with every scandal.

 

When Loki finds him, Tony Stark is in Malibu, collapsed on his workbench, surrounded by a mix of blueprints and designs. 

 

“Sir, you have company,” a voice announces, and Loki starts. A quick magic scan shows that he and Tony are the only two beings in the house.

 

Tony stirs. “You shouldn’t’ve let ‘em in, J.”

 

“I am sorry sir. I was unable to detect their presence until now.”

 

He yawns, mouth gaping wide open, and stretches. “Well, shit. We’re gonna have to look into that. Fuck. DUM-E, U, I need coffee. Pronto. And where is our guest?”

 

“Right here,” Loki interrupts, stepping forward. Tony falls out of his seat in surprise.

 

“Wha? JARVIS, how’d he get in here?”

 

“I do not know, sir. The footage shows him simply appearing in your workshop. Should I call security?”

 

“I-fuck, not yet. I’ll tell you when,” Tony says, propping himself up on his elbows. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, an eerie blue light glowing in the center of his chest, with ragged gray sweatpants doing absolutely nothing to show off his body. He’s covered in ink and soot, face glistening with sweat, dark rings standing out under his eyes. It’s clear he’s put on some muscle since the last time Loki was here.

 

The god quietly writes this picture of Tony Stark to his memory. It’s his favorite one so far.

 

“Hello, Tony,” Loki says. “It’s been a while.”

 

“I…” Tony gulps. “I still don’t know your name, do I?”

 

Loki smiles and shakes his head. “You remember me, though.”

 

“Yeah, when I was, what, fifteen?” Tony reaches for the edge of his workbench and uses it to pull himself up. “God, that was what, twelve years ago? You caught me on one of my better days, there.”

 

Loki nods.

 

“I think I remember you, too, after that. Once.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Hell, I dunno. I was drunk.”

 

“You were.”

 

Tony sighs. “Who are you?”

 

“I don’t think that’s important for you to know right now. I do, however, have some questions.”

 

“And what makes you think I’ll answer?” It’s that same expression Howard had, a hardened mask of defiance, except Tony’s eyes are vulnerable. Open. And Loki can see the exhaustion in them, the pain, the confusion.

 

Tony is, as always, lost.

 

“Why, your personal safety, of course,” Loki says, and the world shuts off around them. He offers an innocent smile as he and Tony both hover to the middle of the room. “I must admit, I would much rather not hurt you. You are by  _ far _ the most interesting Midgardian I have come across.”

 

Tony’s mask barely cracks.

 

“Tell me who you are and I’ll answer.” Oh, but his voice shakes so much.

 

Loki sighs. “Very well. A fair exchange. I am Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard.”

 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Loki shrugs.

 

“So, Tony. What’s that little blue light in your chest?”

 

Tony blinks. “What, you don’t have cable TV? Or a fucking computer?”

 

“No, I have you,” Loki states simply. “Answer.”

 

Tony crosses his arms. “It’s an arc reactor.”

 

“And?”

 

“And what?”

 

“What does it do? Why is it in your chest?”

 

“Well, it’s keeping me alive. It’s an alternative energy source. Basically, okay, you know how nuclear decay works, right? Normally produces a ton of radiation and all that? The arc reactor basically traps that decay in a loop. So it’s made of a palladium isotope that undergoes beta decay. Essentially, the palladium releases energy as it releases an electron, and then the electron has nowhere to go, so it reattaches to the palladium and undergoes the decay again. In theory, it’s an endless cycle. In practice, nothing’s perfect, so it’ll die some billion years after my lifetime.” Tony offers a fake smile. “I don’t know why you care though, seeing as I’ve never seen a ‘Loki’ or ‘Asgard’ in any paper, scientific or no, or associated with any university.”

 

“I cannot merely be curious?” Loki asks softly.

 

“No.”

 

Loki sighs. “And why is this reactor in your chest?”

 

“It powers an electromagnet keeping me alive.”

 

“And why do you need an electromagnet to keep yourself alive?”

 

Tony scowls. “Why don’t you pick up a goddamn newspaper for that one?”

 

“If you insist. I heard you are not making weapons anymore?”

 

“No.”

 

Loki gently lowers them back to the floor. “And why not?”

 

Tony sighs. “Honestly, you could answer half these questions with a quick search online. I don’t want to rehash this for the millionth time. And besides, I think you owe me some answers too.”

 

“Oh really.”

 

“Yeah. Number one, how the hell did you do the levitation and light thing?” Tony’s glare would have likely been intimidating to anyone who hadn’t seen him as a scrawny little fifteen year-old.

 

“It’s part of being a god.”

 

Tony snorts. “Really? So what, the God of Mischief thing is legit?”

 

“Completely.”

 

“Oh, and I suppose Zeus is out there somewhere, too?”

 

Loki rolls his eyes. “Zeus is Greek. I believe it is the Norse who we first discovered and who worshipped us.”

 

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Tony says. “Also, bullshit. That’s not real.”

 

“Hm. Then how did I do the ‘levitation and light thing’?” Loki asks, eyebrows raised. “Or appear in here without being detected?”

 

Tony glares harder. “I don’t know yet.”

 

“Alright,” Loki shrugs.

 

“Why do you always just ask me questions?” Tony presses on.

 

“I find you interesting,” Loki says easily. “You seem to be the center of half of what goes on in Midgard. You are pushing your realm forward.”

 

“And what’s Midgard?”

 

“Your realm.”

 

“Realm?”

 

“Yes.” Frigga would be  _ so proud _ of Loki’s patience right now, except she’d be so disappointed in what he was doing, messing around with a mortal. “I am from the realm Asgard, and you are from the realm Midgard. You probably call it something else.”

 

“Earth.”

 

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

 

“So… you’re an alien?”

 

“We are all aliens, Tony.”

 

Tony sits there in silence for a moment. “Alright. Okay. Whatever.” He stands up, apparently out of patience with this conversation. “I got work to do. If you want to, I dunno, chill here for a while or something, feel free. JARVIS can answer whatever other questions you had about me. I guess. But if you pull some freaky shit I’m calling security.”

 

Loki lets the lights turn back on. “You can’t.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“If you dare try to contact anyone outside this house, you will regret it.”

 

For all Tony tries to appear unphased by that, Loki can see the fear shining through his eyes. He doesn’t know how he feels about being the cause of that.

 

“Alrighty, Mr. Ominous. Mi casa es su casa, whatever. I’m gonna have more questions for you later.”

 

Loki smiles a bit. “Of course.” He saunters out of the lab and up the staircase, taking in the views of the ocean in the lounge. The god sprawls on the largest couch in the room and gazes outside.

 

“JARVIS,” he tries.

 

“Yes?” a voice answers.

 

“What are you?”

 

“Dr. Stark’s has named me Just A Rather Very Intelligent System,” the voice replies easily. “I am Dr. Stark’s personal assistant, an Artificial Intelligence he designed to help him in his ever busy life.”

 

Loki smiles and can’t help but feel pride. The little fifteen year old managed to continue pursuing his interest.

 

“Lovely. When did Dr. Stark create you?”

 

“1993. He started his work in December of 1991.”

 

“Fantastic.” And so Loki rattled off his questions, with system answering methodically, even projecting different news clips on the wall when appropriate. Loki absorbed the information like a sponge, pushing for all the details he could get.

 

When it came to Afghanistan, though, and Tony’s brief adventure there, JARVIS disappointed. Apologetic “I lack that information”s or “that is classified”s dominated the conversation, and Loki slowly grew frustrated. He gathered that Tony was tortured, that he produced an Iron Man suit, that he now wanted to be a hero, but he wanted to know  _ everything _ .

 

But Loki knew a dead end when he saw one, so he changed the line of questioning to the arc reactor and StarkIndustries. Apparently Tony was running the company alone, now, and drowning himself in work like never before. He had help from one Obadiah Stane, who had unfortunately perished in a plane accident.

 

StarkIndustries was struggling, but slowly getting back on track. They were delving into the world of prosthetics and clean energy, and Tony was looking into rescue technology for the military.

 

Loki was just learning about the details of the international branches StarkIndustries was set to open when Tony emerged from his lab, looking even sicker than he had before.

 

“You stayin’ for dinner?” Tony asks tiredly. Loki shrugs.

 

“I don’t eat.”

 

“Good, ‘cause I don’t either.” Tony flings himself unceremoniously on the recliner across from Loki.

 

“I heard that Palladium is generally toxic to humans.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Is placing it in your chest not an issue?”

 

“Not as big of an issue as shrapnel in my heart.”

 

“And I suppose none of your research is going towards preventing a long and painful death?”

 

“What does it matter? The way I was going about I didn’t have much time left anyways.” Tony lets out a hollow laugh. “Now I guess I’m hallucinating gods and shit too. Going out like Tesla isn’t so bad. At least you’re not a pigeon.”

 

Loki sighs.

 

“Hey, Loki.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not too young anymore, and I’m not drunk.”

 

“So?”

 

“And I’m dying.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’ve read the tabloids, right? From before.”

 

“Some, yes.”

 

“I’m still good in bed.”

 

Loki sighs. “And?”

 

“I’ll show you a good time. I know you want it.”

 

Loki studies the man. “I still just do not understand  _ why _ you want to sleep with me.”

 

Tony shrugs. “You’re hot. I’m insane. You have some weird obsession with me. I haven’t gotten laid since before Afghanistan.”

 

“Well, with logic like  _ that _ ,” Loki drawls, rising to his feet. Tony excitedly clambers up as well.

 

And Loki hesitates, taking in the sight, once more, of Tony’s eager body, wondering perhaps if he could indulge himself just a  _ bit _ more… 

 

Before he locks Tony’s memories of him once more, leaving just a healthy desire to live in their place.

 

\---

 

Loki is distracted from his interest in Tony Stark by Asgard, of course, and it isn’t until the whole ordeal with Thor’s coronation and the Bifrost is over that he gets to visit his favorite Midgardian again.

 

Except he doesn’t get to enjoy it, because he doesn’t remember any of it, because fucking Thanos, and apparently he threw Tony out a window, and now he’s locked in a goddamn SHIELD facility except Tony’s memories are  _ unlocked _ and he can’t lock them again because he can’t use his magic and-

 

And Tony’s right there.

 

Watching him.

 

With the gag and the chains, Loki can’t do much else other than watch him right back.

 

Tony’s eyes dart to the corner, where Loki had previously been glaring at the security camera, and a moment later a faint buzz signifies that the camera’s dead.

 

Loki raises his eyebrows.

 

“Alright, here’s the deal Reindeer Games. Fury’s gonna be on my ass in about two minutes. I don’t know what the fuck happened with you, but I remember. Everything. And I don’t know what this world domination deal is, but I know it’s not from you. Admittedly, I know next to nothing actually about you, but I know world domination isn’t on your personality description. So. If after Thor takes you back to Asgard, if you wanna talk, I’ll talk to him and get that arranged. If you want that, nod now. If not, then I’m staying out of this entirely until the bigger baddie shows up.”

 

Loki studies him carefully before nodding. Tony’s shoulders sag.

 

“Alright. J, reactivate the camera.” Loki glances back just to see it perk up again. Tony settles back in and stares at Loki, and Loki stares back.

 

Fury shows up a moment later, flocked by security guards. Tony glances over.

 

“Is he going back to Asgard already? Where’s Thor?”

 

His mask has improved, Loki notes.

 

“No, it’s just that the camera in this room was deactivated, Stark.”

 

Loki also notes how the name  _ Stark _ is spat, like a bite of rotten fruit.

 

“Not my fault your tech’s buggy, Fury. Maybe that wouldn’t happen if you’d let me work on it,” Stark snarked back.

 

“Not a chance in hell.”

 

Tony sighs and rises, and Loki takes his chance to memorize Tony’s appearance once more. He’s worn as ever, muscle harder, facial hair still meticulously groomed. The dark circles under his eyes have only grown deeper with crows feet stretching from the corners of his eyes. His hair is cut shorter than before. His Metallica t-shirt is faded, the white shirt underneath stained yellow and brown in places. His jeans have holes up and down the sides; the kind torn by machinery, not by fashionistas. He looks old, and his arc reactor is shining a different blue. Belatedly, he feels lucky that Tony hadn’t died of Palladium poisoning.

 

Not that he was worried, of course.

 

“Alright, Reindeer Games. Nice staring at you. If you weren’t a nutter, I’d be down to fuck, as the kids say these days. Fury, that is what they say, right?”

 

Fury doesn’t even dignify that with an answer as he marches Stark out of the room.

 

\---

 

It is too long before Tony arrives on Asgard, too long before Frigga projects him into his cell.

 

“Leave us be, Frigga,” Loki commands, immediately rising to his feet. He desperately reaches for Tony, disappointed but unsurprised as his hand phases through the man.

 

“My son…” she says. “I should not.”

 

“No, this is… Please. Frigga.” He doesn’t even comment on her calling him her son, doesn’t scorn her, doesn’t let loose with insults. Just this one thing, this one thing will give him peace.

 

“I should not,” she mutters again, looking confused.

 

“Uh, it’ll be okay?” Tony offers, sounding entirely unconfident. She doesn’t even glance at the mortal.

 

“But I can… if you promise you will consider.”

 

“Consider what?”

 

“To reflect on your actions, Loki. Please.”

 

Loki bites back a snarl. “For this, yes.”

 

Frigga blinks in surprise. “I… Okay. I will talk to you soon, my son.” She vanishes.

 

And Loki’s eyes rake over Tony, taking in the ever-deepening lines among his face, the tenseness in his body, the premature gray edging into his hair.

 

He cannot read his eyes when he is projected like this, and Loki feels the loss.

 

“Alright, Reindeer Games. We’re on a time limit. Again. Name of the game, right? So let’s cut to the chase. You got controlled by big baddies, big baddies are gonna come for Earth slash Midgard slash whatever next. What information do you have?”

 

And this isn’t what Loki wants to talk about.

 

Loki wants to ask Tony Stark about his research, about being Iron Man, about how he joined the Avengers. He wants to ask Tony Stark about SHIELD and Fury and how he gets along with Steve Rogers, especially after everything he’d heard about the man from Howard all those years ago.

 

But they’re on a time limit.

 

And Tony is Midgard’s only hope. The nine realms’ only hope, most likely.

 

So Loki tells him everything he can about Thanos and the Chitauri, and curses that he can’t read Tony’s eyes like this, because he has schooled his face too well. He wears an iron mask; not so brittle that it can be broken, but rather malleable, molded to the situation.

 

And Loki cannot tell what he is feeling as he learns the force coming to destroy his world.

 

Tony simply nods at the end.

 

“Alright. I need to report back to the others. I’ll put in a good word for you – we’ll need all the support we can get with this, and you’re pretty nice when you’re not… Well, I’d say not crazy, but you’ve been whack since the first day I met you, so let’s just go with not being threatened by a fuckin’ Titan. Besides, isn’t Thanos Greek? I thought you assholes were all Norse.”

 

Loki laughs, and Tony offers a smile before he disappears.

 

And then Loki sits back down, alone once more.

 

\---

 

He watches Stephen Strange save Tony Stark’s life, and something inside him twists in some unfathomable emotion he can’t quite unravel.

 

He watches Tony Stark watch Peter Parker die, and that something squeezes hard, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

 

He watches, unspeaking, as Tony leaves the screaming, the shouting, the calls for debriefings. He watches as Tony walks into his half-ruined tower, his beautiful Stark Tower, and takes the elevator up to the highest floor. He watches him look at the missing walls, at the holes in the ceiling and floor, and he watches him sit on his couch and stare outside.

 

He watches Tony Stark refuse to move for forty-four hours.

 

He then watches him walk over to a cabinet, pull out a bottle of whiskey, and down it all over the course of three hours.

 

He watches Tony Stark pass out on his couch and scream through his nightmares.

 

And he watches as Tony Stark arises the next morning, calls May Parker, and walks into the elevator, returns to the main level, and walks five miles to an apartment building. He watches Tony walk into a cramped apartment, but not so cramped as his dorm from so long ago, and take a seat at a table with a kindly, broken woman.

 

He watches them cry.

 

And he leaves, because he does not want to remember Tony Stark like this. But he can’t help it. The image is seared into his mind.

 

\---

 

Loki talks to Tony three months later, after the Midgardian walks out of the New York Sanctum, and assesses him then.

 

Tony Stark is not broken. He is iron, and he is worn, hammered down, bent out of shape, but he is not broken.

 

And he is determined, because he knows Peter is out there, this kid he could’ve been so much to is not entirely gone, and he is a futurist and Peter  _ is his future _ .

 

And so Loki asks Tony about Spiderman.

 

It hurts Tony to talk, he can see that, but he can see how much he  _ wants  _ to.

 

Tony tells him everything about the kid. About his friends at school, his favorite teachers, least favorite, about his Homecoming date and about saving the kids in that elevator and about the incident in the boat and-

 

And Tony pauses.

 

“I wasn’t enough for him. I was…” He shakes. “I didn’t want him to get hurt, and I don’t know how to deal with kids, and I put  _ Happy _ in charge of him for the longest time and…”

 

Loki studies Tony.

 

“I didn’t want to be Howard, so I thought it’d be better if I just wasn’t there at all,” Tony mutters at last.

 

And Loki thinks back to his conversation to Howard, those words – “I will not allow you to harm my son” – and thinks back to fifteen year-old Tony, and he feels like he’s drowning.

 

So he says nothing as Tony breaks down before him, simply watching him cry in silence.

 

They’re in the wreckage of the Malibu Mansion, and the view of the ocean is still beautiful. The windows are cracked, the floor stained, the furniture covered in dust.

 

And it is still so beautiful.

 

Loki doesn’t know how to deal with emotions, never has, so when Tony stops crying he kicks his legs up onto the coffee table and leans back.

 

“Well, I suppose we need to get the Spiderling back then,” he says, sighing. “Why can you never be easy?”

 

Tony blinks, confused. “What?”

 

“You said you think it has something to do with the Soul Stone, where they all went, yes? You still have your readings from the Mind Stone from me. Let’s get to work.”

 

And Tony is more lost than he’s ever seen him, and confused, but he has hope, and Loki likes to think that erases the fear he caused all those years ago. Loki likes to remember him like this.

 

\---

 

It is disgusting, on many levels. Tony Stark clings to Peter Parker, and Peter Parker clings back, and they’re crying, and everyone’s crying, and it’s disgusting.

 

Loki doesn’t know how to deal with emotions, never has, look at him and Thor, but here he is, in the midst of a damned downpour of feelings as Midgard reunites with its missing half.

 

But he doesn’t want to be anywhere else, so he watches Tony Stark.

 

He’s spent the last three years working on and off with the man, watching him drown himself in alcohol each night and wake up each morning with vengeance and hope lighting his labs. He’s seen Tony Stark in press conferences, face caked in makeup to hide how ruined he’s become, his smile a terrifying cover for the hollowness behind. He’s witnessed Tony Stark’s rare moments of almost-peace, almost-happiness, talking to Rhodes or Strange or May Parker, never quite reaching that point he should be.

 

And Loki had wanted, so badly, to help Stark reach true happiness.

 

But it wasn’t meant to be. Because Tony Stark was clinging to Peter Parker, euphoric and relieved and grateful, not Loki.

 

Because Loki can’t make people happy. He didn’t even know why he cared about Stark so much; he was just another mortal, one with a shorter shelf life than most. Stark didn’t matter.

 

Except, as the press slowly took up their cameras and gathered round, he did. He was the face of Midgard. The face of Earth.

 

Loki scowled as Thor flung an arm around his shoulders.

 

“It truly is a joyous day, is it not?” his voice thundered. Loki rolled his eyes.

 

“Disgustingly cheerful.”

 

“Ah, Brother, do not pretend you are not grateful this suffering has ended. The world has not forgotten all you have done to help. It is you and our Man of Iron who ultimately fixed this, is it not?”

 

Loki shrugged, glaring at the ground. Thor lingered a moment longer before meandering elsewhere.

 

Loki was about to teleport out before a hand caught his arm. He looked up, face sullen, just to meet the gaze of Peter Parker.

 

Tony’s would-be son.

 

It almost hurt to look at him, to see the same naive excitement Tony once bore, matched with brown hair and brown eyes.

 

But he was different, too. Too innocent. Too carefree. There was no mask, no buried hurts and insecurities.

 

“I- Mr. Stark said you, uh… You helped!” Parker’s smile was blinding.

 

Loki cocked an eyebrow. “I ‘helped?’ That’s all?”

 

“Y-yeah! I mean, I don’t know the details of anything that happened, I really don’t remember much other than Mr. Stark holding me when, I, you know… But! You and him and Mr. Strange did it! I mean, more than just me, you guys saved half of the universe!”

 

_ But the only one that mattered was you. _ Loki thinned his lips and awkwardly patted Parker on the shoulder, looking up to see Tony smiling it him, eyes damp.

 

“You need to find your aunt, kid,” Tony nods at Peter, who glances back, eyes widening.

 

“Right!” And that’s all it takes for him to go bounding off. Tony’s grin doesn’t waver as he shakes his head.

 

Loki taps his foot, trying to remain sullen as Tony’s appearance, once again, draws itself a picture in Loki’s mind.

 

But he doesn’t get time to process it fully before Tony’s arms are around his neck, his body pressed against Loki’s, his lips against his.

 

And Loki stills for a moment in shock, and Tony pulls away, and they both freeze.

 

“I just… thank you,” Tony mutters, and he starts to let go, but Loki can’t let that happen because  _  what is this _ and his arms wrap around Tony’s waist.

 

“No,” Loki hums, lowering his face so his nose touches Tony’s, “thank  _ you. _ ”

 

The next morning, the circles under Tony’s eyes are gone. His hair is grayer, now, and his face marked by wrinkles, his chest covered in scars, but he is smiling, genuinely smiling, and Loki decides that  _ this _ is how he will remember Tony Stark.

 

\---

 

Loki watches as Peter Parker reads the eulogy, watches as crowds mourn his death.

 

The casket was open, but Loki could not bring himself to look at it.

 

He has so many images of Tony over the years. Of his fifteen year-old self, pulling his shirt off, confused; of his twenty-two year-old drunken body sprawled out in the grass outside a casino; of Tony confused, gazing up at him from his workshop floor; of Tony sitting stiffly in SHIELD, watching Loki carefully; of Tony’s projection, unreadable and absorbing information; of Tony, bent and battered, crying with May; of Tony their first morning after, and every single one following that.

 

He remembers Tony clearly. He remembers watching him, listening to him, loving him.

 

And he will remember Tony’s funeral, but he will not remember that as Tony.

 

Merely a solemn celebration of Midgard’s greatest guardian.

 

His love, Tony Stark.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so i've never watched a marvel movie all the way through with the exception of Iron Man, but that was a million years ago, Spiderman: Homecoming, and Black Panther so like idk what i'm doing here
> 
> sorry if everyone's ooc it's because i have no idea what these characters are actually like
> 
> i just read a bunch of other marvel fanfics so like
> 
> yeah
> 
> uh
> 
> i'll show myself out
> 
> have a good day
> 
> this is unbeta'd
> 
> i proofread it like once?
> 
> yeah


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